Battlefield
by SunRise19
Summary: After Pocahontas II. It is often said you can't hav life both ways, no matter how you wish it so. No one expects a battle of inner desires and words to be started during a ball. When the lines are drawn, can one foolish act be enough to make peace? PLZ RR! For HC247...COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hi all!

I hope everyone is doing well. This story was going to be a one-shot for my sister, fellow author HC247. It was supposed to be a birthday gift… (I don't know if she'd want me to point out the month of her birth but trust me I'm way waay off!) So, better late than never? I should start planning for our annual Christmas story exchange like now… LOL!

If you haven't, go check out what she has written. It is nothing short of brilliant work!

I need to give a shout-out to babyb26 (another Awesome author!) because she helped me with details and encouraging me when I felt like giving up.

So the one-shot is now going to have a second chapter because the writing muses ran away from me and well… You'll see why.

HC247, I hope you enjoy and never stop being you!

Please all review on your way out I so do appreciate it and the reviews are what my writing muses live on! Thank you ever so very much!

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing that you will recognize in this story. As for the OC of Lady Emily you can have her and just do whatever with said character.

Flames will always be used to light firewood and candles.

-…-…-

He never thought he would be here.

Here, on a beautifully decorated balcony in London with the wind softly blowing and a ship of his own down in the harbor. John Smith never would have pictured her dressed so layered and confined.

Never would have imagined her acting so conformed to any society.

Especially the upper echelons of English society.

Yet here she was, dressed in a gown that he could tell from her slight movements she felt uncomfortable in wearing. As soon as she had made her speech to the king, and all had returned from stopping the armada Pocahontas had excused herself from the crowd. At the time, smith thought her going to get fresh air on the very balcony they stood. However, now she was corseted with her dark tresses piled on top of her head and her beautiful tan face appeared sickly under the powder.

Looking at her made his heart ache.

"We walked the same path once," she began a fond lilt to her voice, "I have found where I belong."

"I hope you will also find happiness."

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. For what else could he say? Should he ask her to reconsider? Look at all the options that were spread before her? Should he request to see her in a few days after such pondering?

As soon as the thoughts entered his mind he forced them away. The musings were quite unbecoming of a gentleman to entertain.

The captain had never considered himself to be a true gentleman. He could act the part extraordinarily well, yet he knew it was a facade.

How strange it seemed that King James had referred to him as such not long ago. The praise had been his desire when leaving for Jamestown. To be known for something other than his scandalous reputation. Smith knew he would be looked down on but he would have fame and fortune. Was that not what every man wanted?

It was merely Ratcliffe's status and connections in London that enabled him to first speak to his majesty. In no time at all, Smith had been accused of treason and a price had been placed on his head.

He'd been forced to run, lose contact with his friends and those he thought of as family and cease all attempts to go to the New World. All attempts to go to her.

'Why your hesitation?'

'Do not stand in the way of her happiness.'

A battle raged within him. Here he was in good standing after such a difficult time, and yet he despised this woman's transformation in to a proper English lady. Hated the changes she had to endure just to be a part of the very society he wanted to belong.

'You cannot have it both ways.'

The captain briskly shook his head, willing his thoughts to leave him well enough alone.

Taking her hand in his, John Smith raised it to his lips for a final kiss.

Though, it was not truly a final kiss. That happened on a beach whilst he'd lane on a stretcher in order to go back to England. Afterwards, he held her hand until he had been forced to let go due to his men taking him on board the ship. His fingers had curled into a fist then, bringing it up to his face where he could smell her lingering scent.

Now, the two of them stood together for a moment longer than was necessary or appropriate.

The captain realizing it whilst gazing in her eyes. He knew she did as well. He could see them widen in an indiscernible look prior to her calm expression once again.

It made him second guess everything. The change in not merely her countenance but her spirit. The change in him. Smith could not hold back the flash of anger in his blue eyes. If she had seen it, she made no remark.

What had they done to her? What lies had they told, dances they had taught along with the various etiquette rules they had instructed her to perform? Smith prayed it was all for the safety of her people. Every single thing.

It begged the question; did her transformation go deeper than what was outwardly displayed?

Did his?

He was terrified to know. Scared to examine the truth for very long.

He was thrust back into the present by the soft breeze swishing the fabric of her gown. Brought back to a moment full of so much yearning. So many words left unsaid. It hung between them, the air becoming heavy. Whilst seemingly of their own accord, their hands held fast to one another. For that period of time, palms lay flat and fingers entwined.

Until, "May the Great Spirit always be with you."

Her words spoken, Pocahontas turned to go back through the doors.

Withdrawing her hand from his thus snatching the moment away.

As she turned to leave, Smith found himself grasping her wrist. He wondered in doing so if the years apart altered the both of them so drastically?

In that beat of time, John realized that he had forgotten. All the years running, fighting to survive and to clear his name he had forgotten the love that had ultimately changed his outlook. It was not Pocahontas who left his thoughts, but the warmth and feeling of belonging when he'd been with her that had left his soul. His heart clenched as if squeezed by an invisible hand and he tightened his grip.

The native pulled slightly whilst turning to face him once again, "I have to go."

Years before, she had uttered those exact words in a meadow. In a meadow where she had said them more to herself than him. A field where they had been surrounded by yellow sunflowers as far as the eye could see. A meadow where he had almost kissed her.

In a place where he had to let her leave.

"I have to go," Pocahontas repeated, "There is…-"

"No," his tone was soft at first as she tried to take her hand from his grasp, "No, I am not letting you leave."

"Excuse me?"

He should let her go. He was finally a gentleman with praise, accolades and the world at his feet. After an arduous struggle, he was at last rising up through the classes.

And yet…

His reasoning screamed that she was a lady who wanted to leave, he had no right to keep her and yet…

And yet…

His heart could not be so easily swayed.

"You heard me."

"What?"

"I just, I need to speak with you. Somewhere else…"

"I, John Smith I cannot just."

"The woman in the cornfield did," he pleaded, "She, she…"

He could not help smiling in remembrance, "She put her hand over her friend's mouth, and said something to her in Algonquian. She took my hand and we ran off."

"John…-"

"Where is she? Where is that woman?"

"Things change," Pocahontas gently said, "People change. I will always care for you however.-"

He interrupted her, "Pocahontas.-"

She cut him off, "In the end, we were not meant to be together."

'Think of what you are giving up. You worked so hard for this.'

'You have always fought for everything in your life.'

Smith glanced over his shoulder, only to see his new ship gleaming in the sunlight.

He knew a decision had to be made. Since Pocahontas refused his offer of venturing to new lands, the captain had to decide if he could truly walk away from her of his own volition. He knowing full well that he would never lay eyes on her again.

"I must excuse myself now," the native woman began as she took her hand out of his, "I have been invited to another ball this evening."

In the haze that surrounded him he vaguely recalled his own invitation to the party. Straightening his shoulders, a sudden idea came to his mind.

"You say that people change," John slowly started as Pocahontas nodded, "Could it be that they have just forgotten what they had? Circumstances can do that, make one lose sight of who they are and what is important to them. Events can make a man unknowingly disregard… From all the running and everything taking place I did try to return to Jamestown. I tried to come back. I promise…"

"Perhaps however John smith.-"

The captain smiled, "So, you say it is possible."

"Yes, and I am glad you attempted to come back. It means a lot. However.-"

"I will see you later then," he said.

Giving her no possibility to reply, Smith turned and left her standing on the balcony.

Acutely aware he had one chance.

-..-..-

Nervous.

She honestly felt ill and she knew it was not just the thought of going to the ball that made her so anxious.

Rather it was who would be there.

When they had spoken that afternoon, he seemed on the verge of letting her go in favor of exploring new lands. The way he had reacted to her refusal to join him left her stunned.

'How could he just leave like that?'

'You were nothing to him.'

The woman had silently fought to quell the tumult in her mind. Pocahontas knowing that if he would have walked away she would not have pursued.

Yet as she had turned to go, Smith had grasped her wrist and the seeds of hurt and anger were suddenly replaced with one tiny seed of hope.

It was magnified as his persistence made her wonder if she was doing the right thing. Made her question if John Rolfe was the correct path. Since Rolfe had accepted his new position with the king, Pocahontas realized that this would become her life. After leaving the palace, she'd sat in the carriage whilst he talked about his new title and the opportunity it presented. She was happy for him and told Rolfe as much.

While Smith's words echoed in her mind.

'Where is she? Where is that woman?'

If she chose to she could have a life where she would be surrounded by every luxury. A swirl of endless parties and polite talk. Her people would be safe and she had accomplished what she had set out to do. Rolfe had told her as much.

'Why your hesitation?'

Pocahontas thought as she put on a necklace in the mirror.

'Do not stand in the way of his happiness.'

'He will leave you again.'

Shaking her head in exasperation, the native woman readied herself for the lavish gala. A deep violet gown adorned her frame, her mother's necklace tucked in her décolletage as she elegantly made her way down John Rolfe's grand staircase. As her feet touched the last step, Pocahontas could not help but notice the appraising look he gave on her form.

"What do you think? The dressmaker this afternoon said it was…-"

"You look beautiful," Rolfe breathed as his eyes traveled from her powdered face towards the fine shoes on her feet.

"You look splendid," the gentleman began as he took her arm, "I love your hair."

The comment caused Pocahontas to use her other hand to touch the stiff curls, pins and ribbon that decorated her long ebony tresses. They were situated high on her head, the elaborate design having taken hours to perfect.

It was the one thing she absolutely loathed.

A gust of wind swept over the couple as they walked towards the carriage, her hair not moving with the breeze like she had grown accustomed.

"I have something very important to speak to you about," Rolfe continued as he patted her gloved hand, "Perhaps at some time during the ball you will walk with me in the gardens."

It was a statement, not a question.

As the movement of the carriage picked up speed a query replayed itself over and over again in her thoughts.

'Is this what you want for the rest of your life?'

-..-..-..—

"I finally decided to go with the frills instead of the plain fabric."

John Smith nodded at the redhead that sat across from him at the lavish table. Blue eyes swept the room once more, yet there was no sign of Pocahontas.

"Plus, you can easily fluff frilly fabrics whereas silk just stays wherever you put it. It just does not have any life to it at all."

"Is that so?"

Smith inquired as the lady enthusiastically nodded.

The captain sipped his wine, observing the woman's green eyes admiring him. John glanced around the ballroom, noting the various people being on their best behavior.

Acting like how they should instead of how they normally did in everyday life.

'This is what you have wanted. To be known and respected.'

A voice screamed in his mind as the doors at the end of the room opened.

"I do realize it is forward of me," the lady he'd been conversing with now stood beside him, "However, would you care to dance?"

Startled, John placed down his glass and politely cleared his throat. Glancing up, the captain breathed a sigh of relief as he spotted his salvation.

"If you will excuse me miss," John began as he had forgotten her name, "I would be delighted, yet there is a gentleman who just arrived that I must have a word."

A smile graced her lips, "Of course, I just thank you once again for escorting me to this ball and…-"

Yet he was already gone, weaving his way through the crowd to where Pocahontas and John Rolfe stood. He waited in line with the others that'd gathered to greet the couple, unaware of the scowl on his previous companion's face.

"Ah, John Smith," Rolfe greeted cheerfully as he shook his hand, "A beautiful evening for such a lovely ball. Would you not agree?"

John's eyes swept over Pocahontas's figure, "Yes, indeed it is very lovely."

"I have heard there will be dancing along with singing," Rolfe continued, "Though I am uncertain as to the validity of.-"

The gentleman was interrupted by the band striking up a lively tune. Couples cheered as Smith bowed.

"Pocahontas, may I have this dance?"

"Go on," Rolfe encouraged surprising Smith into silence, "There is someone I see I need to speak to concerning a holiday… No matter, you go on."

Grinning, John Smith took Pocahontas's gloved hand in his own.

They walked onto the dance floor, the captain immediately holding her to his chest.

"I am not sure if I know the steps," Pocahontas began as she nearly stumbled over her long skirts.

"I am sure I do not know them," John chuckled, "I just watch and do the basic movements."

The native princess nodded as the music got faster. Twirling her around, he could feel her body pressed against him. People glanced at them, yet Smith only had his sight fixed on the woman who spun in his arms. How different she looked, whilst she acted like everyone else. It gave him pause as he gazed at her heavily made up face. He was brought back to reality by someone jostling the two of them as he began to dance.

"I am serious," she breathed, "I do not know… I do not wish to mess…-"

"Just dance," John laughed as they spun through the crowd. People clapped and cheered, the two of them being swept up in the lively ambiance.

"I love your hair," a young girl called to Pocahontas as she smiled and whirled away with her escort.

"I don't," Smith mumbled.

"Wh-what d-did you say?"

Pocahontas breathlessly inquired as they swerved to avoid crashing into a lone dancer.

"Nothing," Smith answered as the couples around them spun away from one another only to join hands once again.

"Wait," Pocahontas began, "I did not see.-"

"No worries," John laughed, "The step has already been done. We can catch it next time it comes around."

People clapped, spun and cheered as Pocahontas stumbled, moving under Smith's arm as he caught her. Pocahontas smiled, ignoring the tightness in her chest as they moved. As the tempo increased, her once lively steps became disorganized. The couple twirled the beat rapid and the air feverish as the crowd danced. When she raised her foot in order to turn, her shoe caught on her skirt thus causing the princess to slip on the fine material.

"I got you," Smith said as he held her, she feeling to faint to answer. The native could sense the room tilt, sweat gathering and she realized as she tried to take a satisfying breath she could not. It was as if all the air had suddenly left the hall, merely to be replaced by a suffocating heat.

One look at her countenance and Smith was alert, pushing and trying to apologize to the crowd as he exited the dance floor. Securing his hold, Smith half carried half walked her out of the area towards the door.

"Here," Smith startled as he spotted the woman he had escorted from before, "There is a private chamber where women go when they are overcome. I will take you."

Without waiting for an answer, the woman swept them out of the ballroom and down a well decorated corridor. Stopping in front of a mirror to look at her reflection she waited for Pocahontas and Smith to catch up.

"I, I am so embarrassed," Pocahontas began, "I do n-n-not know what…-"

"Sometimes dancing can be too much," supplied the lady as the three of them finally halted in front of an inconspicuous door. Upon knocking and receiving no reply, the red head opened it to reveal a small private antechamber, the brightly colored curtains swaying gently in the breeze. A matching Chaise sat in one corner next to a table, a few goblets and a pitcher. A writing desk and a plush chair occupied the other corner.

"Thank you," Pocahontas said as she slowly moved towards the Chaise.

"You are welcome," the woman began as she ran a hand through her hair, "Why do you not rest and we will go back to the ball? I will let John Rolfe know you are relaxing."

"Well I should stay…"

"She will be fine here," the lady continued whilst ushering her and John Smith from the room, "We will tell John Rolfe she is resting and she will be just fine here. After all, this place is meant for relaxation. I am certain she does not mind."

The firm close of the door brooked no farther discussion as Pocahontas sank back onto the Chaise. Quickly realizing that lying supine was not helping her breathe, the princess straightened trying to lean forward towards the window. A small garden greeted her sight, along with a fountain. Though the sound was nothing like her beloved river from home, Pocahontas took what comfort it offered. Her frayed nerves were soon soothed by the water flowing over the stones in the fountain.

The fact this space was set aside for women made her feel better as to her privacy. Inhaling, the sweet scent of a promised rain comforted her even more. Folding her arms on the window sill, Pocahontas allowed the peaceful breeze to envelop her as best it could give the surroundings. Whilst the wind caressed her face, Pocahontas began to gather her thoughts.

Though grateful to the stopping of Ratcliffe's army, the native knew that more work needed to be done concerning the various ships and colonists. An agreement would have to be reached to insure the survival of all.

Experience taught her that an alliance between the English and her people would be achieved through marriage. It was that prospect that concerned her. If she could not choose, then who would on her behalf? Would she even be given a choice in the matter? Sighing, Pocahontas knew in her heart the one who occupied her thoughts.

The man who at first she turned away for she thought he no longer loved her. The one who wanted to explore far off places. As the wind blew, the last conversation they had floated across her mind.

A sudden opening and shutting of the door startled the princess as she gasped, turning to see who had entered the chamber.

Captain John Smith leant casually against the door, an eyebrow raised as he stared at her before heading towards the plush chair in the other corner.

"How is the party going?"

"Fine," John replied, "Lady Emily found John Rolfe and explained your absence."

"Good," Pocahontas said as silence fell.

"Are you alright?"

After a pause Pocahontas answered, "I feel better leaning out the window."

"Good," John replied.

More silence fell, merely to be punctuated by the tinkling of glasses and the sounds of the ball.

"So," Pocahontas began, "How do you know Lady Emily?"

"I know her father and she needed an escort," John said, "After I was given an invitation to the ball I naturally had no one to go with so…"

"I see," Pocahontas chuckled.

"Actually," John Smith continued as he relaxed in the chair, "I kept forgetting her name."

Pocahontas laughed, "How can you forget someone's name?"

"Do you know how many women here have names like Emily at this party?"

"I presume quite a lot," Pocahontas stated.

"Your presumption is correct," John said as a gust of wind blew.

Despite the cool breeze that wafted through the window, Pocahontas could feel the tension in the room. Unable to look at the man who sat so casually across from her, Pocahontas allowed her gaze to sweep around the interior. A painting of some sunflowers captured her stare and she marveled at how realistic they looked. It brought to mind the field they had rolled around in and the princess dropped her gaze.

Only to see his cerulean eyes studying her form.

"What is it?"

"It is you," Smith answered as he looked at her, "Are you feeling better?"

"What do you mean?"

"Is your breathing better?"

"It is improved," she replied before continuing, "What do you want?"

"What?"

"Why are you in here? Why did you leave the ball? Why did you risk everything for me and my guard in the tower? You were going to let me walk away and now you are sitting.-"

"I did not want you to leave the balcony," Smith narrowed his eyes, "I told you… I asked you if we could speak somewhere else. You were the one who was insistent on leaving."

"I had to get ready for this party," Pocahontas said as she gestured at her embroidered gown, "Do you know how long it took my hairdresser to style my hair?"

"You look lovely," was his sardonic reply.

"You are the one who wanted a ship and new lands," Pocahontas retorted her voice rising in indignation, "You asked me to go and whenever I declined your offer you were ready to just sail off.-"

"I was not," John Smith snapped as he stood, "You were the one who had to rush home like a good English lady and prepare for.-"

It was her turn to stand and glair at the man who had the audacity to be mocking her.

"Unless we are somehow speaking to one another from two different places," Pocahontas snapped, "You are at the same ball. So, how are you any different?"

John threw up his hands, "I hate your hair like that."

"What does that have to do with anything?!"

"Does it even move in the wind?"

"What?"

"You heard me."

In that moment, the woman chose to ignore the fact she'd had the same thought not long before the start of the evening.

Pocahontas folded her arms across her chest before replying, "Though this style is hard to get used to I have been told it is the latest fashion. They see me as an English lady and if that is what I must do for my people.-"

"Do you truly think they see you as a lady? You are a savage."

John Smith glared as Pocahontas's eyes widened in stunned disbelief, "You are considered to be a reformed savage yet one all the same. That is how they see you. That is how John Rolfe sees you."

"How dare you!"

"How dare I what? Speak the truth?"

Even through the silk of her gloves, Pocahontas could feel her nails digging into her palms. Closing her eyes, she willed herself to take a deep breath. She could hear the queen's melodious voice in her head.

'A lady always maintains decorum, no matter what she feels in her heart.'

"You can go now. I thank you for seeing after me however we have nothing more to say to one another."

A mirthless laugh escaped his lips as he moved towards the door.

"Do you hear yourself? Do you listen to how you speak?"

A pause before he continued so quietly the princess had to strain to hear, "Do you even listen to your heart anymore?"

"Captain Smith," Pocahontas bit out if only to steady her rattled nerves, "What part of you can go now did you not understand?"

"I suppose that would be a no then."

"How dare you stand there and lecture me about circumstances that you know nothing about! You see, John Rolfe told me of your background."

Pocahontas seethed as she stepped forward, "I am trying to remember how he phrased it... Oh yes, John Smith is surprisingly invited to this ball given the fact he is the son of a lowly farmer. That is how they see you."

Pocahontas noted the trembling in his hands and saw the once warm blue pools of his eyes freeze as solid as the Chickahominy River in winter. She stood her ground as he took a step forward, then another as he leant so close she became acutely aware of his breath on her cheek.

"I was wrong," John Smith began his voice deadly calm as the rain started to fall outside, "You are just like an English lady. You are beautiful, arrogant and a cold-hearted bitch. Are you happy now?"

Before she could reply Captain John Smith wrenched away, turned towards the door, threw it open and slammed it behind him with a deafening thud.

Leaving Pocahontas to gasp in hurt and anger.

Leaving her to wonder how everything had spiraled down so quickly.

Leaving her to compare how his blue eyes had danced with mirth while he'd held her amongst the spinning couples.

Only to depart with his scathing look and harsh words.

Whilst his heavy footsteps walked briskly down the corridor.

-…-…-End of Chapter 1…-…-


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Hi all!

So, here is chapter 2. The third and final chapter will be out by the end of the year. I realized as I was writing that the chapter was already quite long and we still have a ways to go.

Any thoughts, suggestions, ideas or anything can be left in a review.

Flames will always be used to light firewood and candles.

I hope you'll enjoy please leave a comment on your way out I appreciate them so much! I thank you for your time.

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing to do with Disney's Pocahontas. I know the real history. I just borrow the characters for entertainment purposes only.

Chapter 2:

-…-…-

Before he even opened his eyes, all he was aware of was his aching head.

Nay, pulsating, throbbing pain that radiated through his head as if it were being repeatedly slammed against a wall.

The next of his senses to be awakened was his hearing.

More accurately, the lack thereof.

Wherever he was, it was very quiet. It was virtually silent so right off he knew he was not in his own flat located in the busy section of London.

Moreover, the scent of lavender seemed to sooth him as he slowly regained his wits.

He was warm and comfortable, covered in blankets and in a bed much softer than his own.

However, it soon became apparent that he was not alone. Under the same blankets, he could feel the shape of a woman's back pressed against his chest, whilst his unclothed back was pushed against the wall.

He was now unequivocally aware that he was in some woman's bed, though he could not say how it came to be.

He sighed as she moved onto her back, stretched, yawned and finally lay still. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light in the room, a mass of dark hair became visible on the white pillow. At precisely that moment, a weak beam of sunlight shown through the partially drawn curtains. When she turned her head in his direction, Captain John Smith bolted upright and then wished he had not as the room spun and he clutched his head.

Undeterred, Pocahontas blinked open her dark eyes and stared up at the man who had so foolishly pounded on her balcony door. How he had managed to reach it in his state the lady would never know.

In a quiet voice she spoke, "Are you alright?"

"No," he bit out whilst slumping forward as he breathed, "What, what happened?"

"What do you mean?"

"How, why, how what am I doing here? What are you doing here?"

He hated the twinge of panic that laced his words as he fought to regain control of his senses.

"Keep your voice down. You do not remember?"

"I would not have inquired if I did."

"Do not take that tone with me," Pocahontas snapped, "It is not my doing that you are in this situation. However, given your state I could not just throw you out."

Having finally succeeded in sitting upright John Smith said, "Forgive me. I have not awakened feeling this way in a long time."

A humorous laugh escaped Pocahontas's lips as she pushed back the blankets and started to get out of the large bed, "I believe that as much as I believe Ratcliffe suddenly thinks there is no gold in Jamestown."

"Are you then calling me a liar?"

"No," Pocahontas answered as she walked behind the dressing screen towards the bureau on the other side of the room, "Just a fool."

Upon pushing back the bedclothes, the captain was relieved to see that his trousers were in place. By the time Pocahontas returned carrying a small wooden box, John Smith had only managed to sit on the edge of the bed with his bare feet hanging over the side. Glancing down he noted his unclothed torso, before looking up only to notice that she was watching him.

"Where is my shirt?"

His reply came in the way of an arched eyebrow as Pocahontas set the box in between them on the bed. As she made to stand a sudden knock had John flinching and Pocahontas sighing.

"Be quiet," she said.

"But."

"Be quiet," Pocahontas reiterated by placing her fingertips against his lips before walking towards the door.

Leaving a stunned captain to look on as she slowly opened the door, angling her body so that Mrs. Jenkins could not look fully into the room.

"I have tea and bread for you dear," Mrs. Jenkins's voice made John Smith's headache more intense as he leaned forward.

"Thank you so much Mrs. Jenkins," Pocahontas said in a small voice, "However, I am feeling ill this morning. I suppose I was making rather merry last evening and I ate or drank something."

"No worries dear," Mrs. Jenkins interrupted as she felt Pocahontas's forehead and cheek, "I see you have no sign of a fever. Are you certain you do not need anything?"

"I think the tea, bread and jam will be quite nice," Pocahontas replied, "I just feel tired. I think all I need is a day of rest with no fuss and I will be just fine."

"Well," Mrs. Jenkins hesitated whilst Pocahontas took the breakfast tray, "Are you certain? Do you want me to fetch Uti?"

Pocahontas shook her head as she balanced the tray, "I will be fine. There is no need to alert my guard. I wish to be left in peace today."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes, thank you so much Mrs. Jenkins. I truly appreciate all you have done."

After Pocahontas shut and securely locked the door, she waited until the maid's footfalls faded down the stairs before turning back towards John Smith.

"I'm setting this on the table," Pocahontas said as she tightened her robe after placing down the tray. John Smith watched as she neared the bureau and picked up a blanket. Her movements graceful, he could not help but gaze on as she snatched the wooden box off the bed and headed towards the table in the corner. Pulling out a plush chair, Pocahontas sat and started to pour the tea. He continued staring as she wrapped the thick blanket around her shoulders before adding honey to the liquid in her cup.

"Where is my shirt?"

The captain repeated as Pocahontas placed down the pot of honey and pointed over towards the other chair. John Smith gingerly made his way over towards the other seat. Immediately spotting his shirt he reached to pick it up off the back of the chair.

Merely to become aware of the facts that not only was the sleeve torn but all the buttons that had decorated the front of the garment were missing.

The native princess looked up as Smith heavily sat down, blinking rapidly and staring at the shirt in astonishment before he queried, "What the hell happened? What the bloody hell went on here last night?"

Pocahontas laughed as she pushed the bread and cup of tea in his direction, "You truly have no recollection of anything that occurred last evening? Do you remember calling me a cold-hearted bitch?"

John Smith winced, for even though he could not recall what exactly was said he did remember the argument and how he had stormed out of the ball. He had not even given his regards to Lady Emily or any of the guests but had simply left. As he thought back, he remembered running into Ben and Lon at their usual pub.

"I do recall."

"Have some tea and bread," Pocahontas said as Smith looked down at the fine tea tray before meeting her gaze across the table.

"Listen, I, I appreciate this nursemaid act of yours. I really do. However, I should just take my shirt and cloak. "

Pocahontas cut him off, "Your cloak is soaked. I have it hanging on those pegs. That reminds me, I need to tend the fire."

"I will."

"Sit," Pocahontas sharply commanded as John arched an eyebrow before sitting back in the comfortable chair.

"You can hardly walk. I will not let you see to the fire."

He wanted to say otherwise, however reconsidered as he thought back to how carefully he had walked towards the sitting area.

It did not take long before the fire blazed and the room filled with light. John Smith knew it was only a matter of time before the chamber would warm up. As he sipped the tea, images of the prior evening started to become clearer.

Instead of shame, the captain was more annoyed at his behavior and how he had spoken to Ben and Lon. He smiled as he brought to mind Lon defending all his slander against women. It seemed to him that he had gone off about harlots and he vaguely wondered if he had referred to Pocahontas as such. He was reminded how Lon had hit him if only to make him see reason. He remembered the cool night air as Ben had ushered them outside of the tavern before any of the staff could get involved. Some time elapsed, and he found himself in a carriage as he mumbled something that must have been John Rolfe's address. As he bit into the warm bread, he suddenly recalled either being band from the carriage at some point or tumbling out in a daze. The rain had begun falling in earnest then, soaking through to his skin and yet he continued onwards. He must have been dropped closer to Rolfe's house than he originally surmised, because in no time at all he was leaning against the brick wall staring at a lone flame through the window of a second floor balcony.

He blinked as Pocahontas took the tea cup from his hand and set it on the table.

At his inquisitive expression she explained, "You looked like you were deep in thought so much that I worried you would drop it."

He nodded, as an abrupt vision of tears flashed in his mind along with the feel of her body in his arms, heat enveloping him and ebony hair touching his flesh.

At that moment he quickly sat up and grabbed Pocahontas's hand.

Whilst he loathed his alarmed tone, "What the bloody hell came to pass? Tell me, tell me what happened?"

He suddenly let go before getting to his feet, "Never mind. I will take the remains of my shirt and I'll just throw the cloak on tis still early and not many people are out and."

"Sit," Pocahontas interrupted as she narrowed her eyes.

"Pocahontas."

"I will burn that cloak if you as much as move towards that door. Besides, you will have a more difficult time leaping down in your current state."

"You would not."

"Many years ago, you climbed a tree in order to continue our quarrel."

She paused before saying, "Actually, you tried to prove to me that you were more civilized than me and my people. Well, I am not letting you leave until you answer a question."

He gradually sat, "I do not remember anything. All I recollect is completely losing my composure and you telling me to hush."

"You told me last night that you had become drunk on too much ale. You kept repeating that when men are drunk it is easier for them to speak the truth. In fact, you did not believe there was a need for the tower of London and that his majesty should just get his enemies drunk in order to learn what they are hiding."

At this revelation John Smith laughed, "Yes, I still think that is true about King James."

Pocahontas ignored his comment, "Did you mean what you said to me?"

"That depends," John replied before hesitantly inquiring, "What did I say?"

A somber look crossed her face as she quietly gazed into her own tea. He watched as she shivered whilst she gripped the cup in her hands. After a few moments of silence John Smith heard her sigh.

"I do not know what time it was when you fell against my balcony door," Pocahontas began as Smith leaned back and listened.

-…-…-

Since her arrival to England, Pocahontas had never witnessed such an intense storm. With the claps of thunder, strong winds and driving rain it reminded her of the squalls from her homeland.

It had been some time after Mrs. Jenkins had helped her to bed and Pocahontas still found that she could not sleep. Normally, a rainy night would sooth her nerves however this night it did not. As she moved onto her side to face the wall, the native could not help but wonder about the evening's events.

She had waited until she could no longer hear his angry steps down the hall before straightening her gown and opening the door. It did not take her long to find Lady Emily, who just so happened to be dancing with John Rolfe. As Pocahontas approached the couple, Emily's flirtatious look disappeared. As John Rolfe turned to face her, he did not notice the annoyed expression the younger girl sent in her direction.

The gentleman was the first to speak, "Is it not a lovely evening?"

"Yes," Lady Emily answered, "I am having such a nice time. Pocahontas, are you feeling better?"

"Yes," she replied, "I was just going to get some refreshments."

"What would you care to have?"

Pocahontas thought a moment before replying. When she did, Emily immediately wished for the same.

That was how the evening had gone, Emily constantly following the couple. When John Rolfe had finished dancing with Pocahontas, Lady Emily's hurried steps would be at Rolfe's side.

Since the weather had grown dismal, the walk that John Rolfe had planned had to be postponed.

"Perhaps I will be able to show you the King's gardens another time," he had stated as his disappointed gaze went out one of the palace's decorative windows.

And as the carriage drove them back to Rolfe's estate, Pocahontas vaguely wondered why she did not care about the obvious attention Emily had received like she should have.

Even though she had tried when the fact that Emily's coquettish behavior had become so obvious.

Yet as she climbed the staircase in Rolfe's mansion and as Mrs. Jenkins had helped her undress, the native woman felt to weary to put much effort in the task.

Pocahontas drew the nightdress closer to her body as she shivered whilst she pulled up the blankets, her mind replaying the argument between herself and John smith. The native princess groaned in exasperation as she flipped to her other side. She stared at the wooden door to her chamber, absentmindedly twisting a lock of ebony hair around a finger. When she noted she was biting her lip, something the native only did when anxious she willed herself to stop. Sighing, Pocahontas jumped as she had accidently pulled on the strands of hair she'd been listlessly twirling.

A feeling of guilt settled within her as she freed the pieces of hair from her grasp. Sitting up, Pocahontas stared at the raging storm outside.

She had never been one to flaunt her status amongst anyone in her village or to those who were not from her father's federation. Yet she had done just that to the man she had loved. More importantly, he had saved her father's life. Pocahontas lowered her head, knowing full well that events would have gone dreadfully different if her father would have been killed. Not just for the Jamestown settlers, but for all of her people as well. John Smith had saved more than he realized, and Pocahontas had belittled his rank as if he was now beneath her own.

She had disparaged not only his family's status, a class that had been placed onto him by society, but she had also made it seem that she was somehow better than him.

Slumping forward she calling herself every name in her language, she vowed that come the next day she would find John Smith and apologize for her haughty behavior. It was not in her character to speak in such a way and especially to someone who had done so much for her people.

'Farmer's son. Why did you say that as if it were horrible?'

A voice said in her mind as she dropped backwards onto the soft pillows. A gust of wind and rain blew against the windows as she closed her eyes for what felt like the hundredth time.

Merely to bolt upright as something banged against the glass of the door that lead out to her balcony. After catching her breath, Pocahontas waited until her heartbeat slowed before laying back down.

Only for the bang to come again. As it happened for a third time, Pocahontas noted that it was becoming more insistent. Whatever it was, it was not being caused by the harsh winds outside. Gathering her wits, Pocahontas got out of bed and aided by the firelight found the door to the balcony.

It took a moment for her to figure out how to open it, yet when she did she became instantly wet by the inhospitable weather.

Not to mention a form wrapped in a soaked cloak nearly falling on her as the door fully opened.

A scream caught somewhere in her throat as she struggled to regain her balance, the person doing nothing to help. Before she completely lost her footing however, the man had noticed the wall and had thankfully leaned against it as Pocahontas shut the door.

"Wingapo," he began as he grinned, "I would do the gesture with the hand but I fear that would not be a wise choice."

-End of Chapter 2…-


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Hi all and Happy New Year!

Well everyone, this would have been completed yesterday if it weren't for the fact I'm a perfectionist and didn't want to post the ending until I was absolutely certain I was satisfied.

I hope everyone has a blessed 2019! Please leave a review on your way out they truly are appreciated and they feed my writing muses for sure! I genuinely thank you for your time in reviewing and I hope you enjoy!

P.S. Just a little side note for those that may not be familiar with how drunk people "usually," behave. I am making a general statement, and every person that drinks is different however suffice it to say they are apt to ramble on and on.

That is all I'll say.

DISCLAIMER: Unfortunately, I still own nothing.

Chapter 3:

-….-….

Pocahontas could count very few times in her life where she had been utterly struck speechless.

Yet here she was, in a land she virtually knew nothing about. Standing near a man who just a few days prior she thought him dead. Incredibly, the same man she had just promised herself she would seek the very next morning in order to sort out their argument.

She gazed at his dripping form as he leaned against the wall, the way his cloak showed his broad shoulders, how the rain had plastered his blonde hair only to see wisps of it fall near his eyes as he tilted his head to look at her.

Dumbfounded, Pocahontas watched as he shuffled first one, then the other muddy boot across the floor. As she secured the balcony door, she had just enough time to stop him from crashing into her bureau.

"King James should give his enemies ale," John began as he grinned, "He would save much money getting rid of the tower and all those tools used for interrogation… Just give ale. Men always speak the truth. Men always reveal…"

"Thank you," he continued as he propped himself on the edge of the table in her sitting area. He then stood and proceeded to make his way towards the dressing table on the other side of the room. Fearing he would fall, Pocahontas ushered him towards the low bench.

"You are very nice," John Smith began as he shoved a hand through his sodden hair fully revealing his flushed visage, "I must say I am surprised. A lady usually makes someone else get the door. Ale… It has been my friend… It causes men to say things… I would give you some if I had any however… I do not think I have one to spare."

Pocahontas frowned as she threw up her hands in exasperation. Unable to speak, she signed with her hands before she shook her head and allowed a sigh of disbelief.

Finding her voice she inquired, "What, what, how did you, what are you doing here? Are you crazy?"

"If becoming ill on the side of a road, tearing my sleeve, seeing the woman I lo-, partaking in lots of ale, and climbing a wet wall make me crazy… Then yes, I would be crazy."

"Hush," Pocahontas said as she shook her head, "Hush."

"I will not," John said as he leaned forward over his knees, only to straighten up and laugh as his back hit into the dressing table, "I, I, well I, you see… How are the bears?"

"What is the matter with you? What are you talking about?"

"Ale, ale and bears," John Smith repeated as if it should be obvious, "Bears, Pocahontas bears. The baby ones and, and their mum."

"Oh," Pocahontas said as she blinked, "They are fine. They are no longer with their mother as she has reared them and they most likely have cubs of their own but."

"That is nice," John Smith interrupted before continuing, "I hate my mother. I mean, I loathe her."

"John," Pocahontas started as she sighed, "I know that not everyone gets on well with their family however."

"You are so beautiful," John cut her off as his damp hand stroked her cheek, "You were at the party the prettiest girl… No, woman, you were the most stunning woman…"

Pocahontas could not help but blush and look away from his sincere gaze as he ran a hand through his hair once more before he spoke.

"My mother is dead and it will stay that way. I bet she never cared for my father and that man was good to her! So, where is John Rolfe?"

Pocahontas sat down, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with the turn of events.

"Do you need him or something?"

It was then she knew it had been the wrong thing to inquire as Smith's expression changed. His eyes narrowed, and Pocahontas noticed that his hands were gripping onto the bench. He made no reply, only glared at the door to her bedchamber. In that moment, Pocahontas felt at a loss of what to do. She had seen drunken men from the crew that had gone with her to London, yet John Rolfe had always sheltered her when the brawls got violent. They'd shouted words she had not been able to make out, and John Rolfe would not elaborate as to their definition. He had simply escorted her to her cabin, and station himself with sword drawn at the entrance. Tempers would eventually calm, and she would be allowed on deck once more and no word would be spoken on the incident.

"Oh certainly," Pocahontas startled as John Smith's sardonic tone broke through her thoughts, "Go on and get the saint Rolfe. However, before you do I need to tell you something. Actually, actually, actually I, I n-need to show… Oh my…"

He was staring at her, his gaze intense and blue eyes holding an expression she could not read as Pocahontas stood.

"Wingapo, where are you going?"

"John Smith you are clearly drunk," the woman stated as she took a step back, "I am at a loss as to what to do."

"You can do anything you want," John Smith spoke as he slowly lifted his hands towards his throat, "You can do anything you want with me sweetheart. However, I must show you something."

As the sopping wet cloak and doublet was flung onto her dressing table, the native winced as a few of the jars plummeted to the floor. It was then she was thankful they were light and had been made of durable glass as they rolled before coming to a stop.

Pocahontas watched as he clumsily unbuttoned the first few buttons on his shirt. She noted how his fingers trembled, and how his gaze seemed to dart around the room. He startled as he met her eyes in the firelight, prior to glancing down at his hands.

"I see your hair," John Smith slurred, "That is true…"

"What about it?"

Pocahontas inquired as in one quick movement he grasped a handful of ebony strands.

"I love your hair now," he replied, "This not stupid anymore. It is down and free just like it should have been this evening."

"I was going to a ball, I could hardly."

"It should have been down," John Smith emphatically spoke as he brushed the tresses against his cheek.

The native took a step back as she gently took the pieces of hair from his grasp, "Alright, why do you not just come and sit by the table in the other corner. It is more comfortable."

"I completely agree," John Smith replied as he started to unbutton his shirt once more, "I must show… I must…"

His voice trailed off as his fingers faltered in their task, the man trying to shrug out of the barely unfastened garment. The native princess gazed on as he stood, his large hands grabbing her by the shoulders in order to keep his balance.

"What are you doing?"

Pocahontas asked as she took a step back, only to have him move closer and take her in his arms.

"Let go," she demanded as she pushed against his chest.

"Hush, hush love it is alright… Alright…"

She was about to speak when his head fell against her shoulder, his wet hair next to her neck making her shiver as he tightened his embrace.

"Stop," she said as she fought to ignore his hold, "I will cry out."

"There is no need love," John smith mumbled as he gradually loosened his grip only to tug his shirt from his trousers.

"What are you doing?"

It seemed to be the only question she could formulate as he tried to remove his shirt with one hand whilst the other grasped her shoulder.

"Do you trust me?"

"What?"

"Do you trust me?"

The captain released his hold on her nightdress only to gently cradle her face in his large hand, "Do you trust me? You should… After everything I, we have gone through you should trust me."

"John."

"Damn you woman! Why… Why… What the bloody hell would it take to!?"

Alarmed at his sudden outburst, Pocahontas stumbled backwards as in one swift motion Captain John Smith ripped the fine shirt down the middle. She gasped as the garment dropped to the ground and buttons slid across the oak floor.

"Look at me," he demanded as Pocahontas took a step back whilst shaking her head. Spying an unlit candle, the princess reached for the holder in case she would have need of it.

"Look at me please," John Smith implored as his gaze and voice softened, "Please look here."

"Where do you mean?"

She was relieved that her voice did not betray her uneasiness as she tentatively took a step forward. Pocahontas glanced at his drawn expression, followed by the curve of his neck toward his broad shoulders. Her gaze traveled down his pale arm to where his fingertips rested against his side.

"I am not going to hurt you," John murmured his tone barely rose above the crackling of the fire; "I am not going to hurt you. I would never harm you. I love you. I love you so much that I…"

His voice trailed off as his arms fell to his sides and he straightened his form. Cautiously, Pocahontas placed down the candle holder before approaching where he quietly stood. As the flames leapt in the fireplace, the jagged scar shown prominently against his pale flesh. The native swallowed hard as he tenderly took her hand.

"How is your father?"

A sudden intake of breath was her only reply as she met his solemn expression. She could not pull away as he continued.

"I stayed on deck of the ship until I could not see you on that cliff anymore," John said as he closed his eyes, "After your silhouette faded I asked the men to take me below and leave me in peace. I then wept."

Pocahontas's lips parted in surprise at his simple statement, "You did?"

John nodded, "For the first time I did not wish to leave a place. When I met you it… You opened my eyes to so much around me. I was born and raised on a farm where all I saw were fields and yet I never really seen life. I never considered the earth, sky, trees, water, animals, colors, blues, greens, leaves, foliage, yellows and rivers and."

Before she comprehended her actions her fingers lightly touched his lips, "I understand what you mean."

"I then got wounded and my God that was pain," John Smith continued as he kissed her hand, "Nowhere as horrible as leaving you. I cried like a child because I would have been happier dying where I belonged rather than perishing at sea or in London."

His watery gaze met her dark eyes in the firelight, "I should have stayed with you for then I would not have been alone."

"You had to go back," Pocahontas stated as she nodded her head, "You had to go back so your own people could assess your wound."

"No," his harsh tone startled the young woman as she jumped, "No, you were worth it. I knew that even as I boarded the ship yet everyone was insisting and I just wanted to be certain of returning to you and I should have stayed for the mere reason that I would not have to return for I never would have left…"

He swallowed hard as he breathed, his words coming out rushed as he tenderly drew patterns with his fingertips on her cheek.

"What was I to think? You did not come back. I got no letter from you. They told me you were dead."

"I was dead," John whispered as their hands entwined, "I was dead… John Smith was dead because I had to be. He had to be. He tried to send you letters but all the words came out so wrong… I wanted to tell you… He, I, I wanted to get on the next boat headed for Jamestown because… Because… Damn it I wanted to be selfish. I needed to say I love you that I never stopped I longed to hold and kiss you and tell you that I was alive and I desired God how I… I… Pocahontas… You listening? You listening with your heart?!"

A sob caught somewhere in her throat as she nodded.

"Yes," she managed as his rambling stopped before he shuddered once and collapsed into her arms, "Consequences be damned you were not just some light thing… You were not…"

The princess struggled to move as the man took a breath and released the river of tears that made the native wonder how long he'd held back. Glancing behind her, Pocahontas led him towards the edge of her bed and helped him sit.

"It is alright," the woman soothed as she rubbed his back, "It is alright. John Smith hush… It is alright. I know… I also wept… Your leaving was horrible for me… I know… I love you… I."

Gasping at her sudden revelation, Pocahontas jerked back causing him to fall half on top of her.

"Love you so much," John breathed his lips making contact with her forehead, cheek, down her neck then towards the place where her shoulder and jaw met.

Swallowing thickly Pocahontas started, "John smith I…"

He shifted slightly prior to meeting her gaze with a wan smile, "John Rolfe may possibly have you for the rest of his life. I only have tonight."

Inhaling sharply if only to keep her tears at bay, Pocahontas could do nothing as he reached for her lithe figure, his strong arms coming around her as his lips sought her own.

Combined with his gentle kiss and sincere words she was utterly helpless as he explored her mouth. Pocahontas shivered as his hard chest pressed against the thin fabric of her nightdress. And when he savored her bottom lip, she could not hold back a moan. Her senses reeling at his touch as in one quick motion she was lying beside him as he fiercely clutched her in his arms. She gasped as she felt his trembling hands through her ebony tresses as his fingers kneaded the base of her skull towards the nape of her neck.

"John…"

It was then she fully embraced him, his name being drawn out in a low moan whilst her palms made contact with the bare skin of his shoulders. Fervent kisses were pressed to her lips, cheeks and forehead as she cradled the back of his head. His golden hair was mostly dry as she found herself kissing him with just as much passion. Ardent hands sought what they could as their breaths mingled in the space between them. Gasping, the native woman raked her hands through his hair whilst his trembling lips found the hollow of her throat. Pocahontas unaware that she was arching her neck in order to grant him full access.

"Love you," he said in between kisses as he held her.

"It seemed you preferred a ship," Pocahontas was breathless as she tried to gather her thoughts, "You were leaving by choice and."

"No, no no no no no no no," he lethargically repeated as he leant against her neck, "Never… Want you always h-happy."

It was then his body slumped against her, he taking in a shaky breath. After that another, then one more, followed by another before she finally realized he was asleep.

-….-…

"I nudged you a few times," Pocahontas quietly finished her story as a harsh gust of wind slammed against the window, "You said something I could not make out… It honestly sounded like Werowocomoco. It took a moment however I was able to get you situated… And that is how you awakened here this morning."

Shocked, John Smith watched as she sat back in the plush chair, holding her cold cup of tea prior to placing it on the table.

"John Smith," her weary tone made the young captain raise his head to wholly look at her, "Did you mean any of it?"

"Referring to the words I conveyed to you?"

"Yes," she replied, "Did you mean any of it? Do you remember saying anything that I have told you?"

"I cannot honestly say that I recall making those statements to you," John Smith began as he rubbed a hand over his face.

Even as his heart clenched in his chest as he forced himself to meet her gaze.

Inhaling he answered with all the sincerity he could, "Pocahontas, I meant every word. I love you. I always have and I always will. Everything that happened on the ship back to London was true."

Silence fell for a few minutes before John cleared his throat, "I am sorry. I am sorry I called you a bitch. Just, it is just you acted so different and. I will not apologize… I cannot apologize for what I revealed last evening. You are worth losing my dignity too."

"My behavior towards you was abysmal," Pocahontas began as it was her turn to meet his weary gaze, "I am also sorry. I am sorry I said those things to you. I care not that you are the son of a farmer or that you do not have much money in your society… You saved my father, my people… I do love you John Smith, more than you will ever know."

He let out an astonished breath as in an instant she was in his lap, the thick blanket that had been about her shoulders wrapping securely around the both of them. He pressed a lingering kiss to her lips as he firmly embraced her.

"I love you too," he whispered as she pulled away.

"If you wish to rest I will mend your shirt," Pocahontas spoke as the flames leapt in the hearth.

An impish grin lit his eyes as he stared at her, "The shirt can wait. I do long to rest if you will stay beside me."

"You were wrong last night," Pocahontas began as they made their way towards her bed, "You assumed I wanted John Rolfe for the rest of my life."

"His rank is far higher than mine," John replied as he held her once more, "That is what King James will consider."

"John Rolfe did not save my people's leader," Pocahontas spoke as she softly kissed him, "You were right regarding everything. My people respect you… And you are loved by the chief's favored daughter. I am no less a princess than his Majesty's own daughter Elizabeth."

It was her turn to grin mischievously up at him, "Do you deny it?"

"No," he replied as they huddled together in the bedclothes he burying his face in her hair as he exhaled, "God willing, I will never deny you anything again."

And as the sun slowly rose, illuminating the bedchamber in a quiet glow, the battle within them ceased.

Only to be replaced by a profound love for one another and a lasting peace.

-…-End of, "Battlefield."-….-…-


End file.
